"Promise me you'll keep alive this time," Leliana whispered.
"I'll do my damnedest," Lana said back, her own emotions bubbling over. They hugged tight to each other as the dwarves slipped back in, mumbling how that glass sure was secured safe, eyed the Divine wrapped up with the little mage, and yanked up the second box quickly.
"Thedas isn't the same without you," Leliana said, breaking her arms free. She glanced towards Cullen for a moment who nodded his head solemnly. "And for the Maker's sake, please write often. I have very few eyes in western Ferelden."
"Leils, I will not be your spy," she laughed, shaking her head.
"I meant to watch over you," Leliana whispered. "But," she wiped away her tears and extended a hand to Cullen, "you have that well covered. Both of you, live well. Live happy because all of us are happy for you."
"Maker, you make it sound like I'm walking to my death. Ferelden isn't that bad," Lana said, waving a finger under her friend's nose. Her mocking tone worked to diffuse the humid emotions rising in the room.
"As you say," Leliana answered, the Orlesian born woman patting Lana in the back. With one hand upon her cane and the other arm wrapped tight around her expanding pot, Lana slid next to Cullen. He offered to take the adder's hiss from her but she sighed and glanced down at Honor who was straining to make friends with the dwarves climbing up and down the staircase. Together, they surveyed the apartment one last time. It was strange, for being such a brief respite in their lives, so many memories of their coming together and building something new rested inside.
Turning up to Cullen, Lana smiled, "Let's go home."
Chapter Twenty-Six
My Love
9:44 The Dales
Rubbing sleep out of his eye, Cullen tried to sneak down the stairs but every slip of his cautious foot caused a creak to moan through the entire hunting lodge. He couldn't remember who it technically belonged to, and the Divine waved his questions away with her enigmatic smile. Regardless, it seemed unlikely there'd be any unexpected visitors soon judging by the rain sleeting down the windows. Someone must have sunk almost all their coin into insulating the lodge as he couldn't hear a single drip of the water against the roof and panes of glass.
Sliding down the last of the stairs, he ignored the multitude of trophy heads glassily staring off the wall - Cullen only had eyes for the woman haphazardly strewn across the chair. Fire roared out of the hearth despite the rain slicking down the chimney, probably because the flames were blue. Ever since the fade, she hadn't been able to sleep without some light in the room and relied on veilfire throughout the night. She was never far from the blue and teal flame, the light washing over her and the chair like reflections off the sea. The chair itself was one of those monstrous things favored by Dukes and Counts of a certain disposition. With a high back carved to mimic a deer's antlers gouging off the sides, it imposed in the impractical way, trying to start up a conversation no one wanted to have. Rather than sit properly in it, she rested sideways, both of her elbows upon one arm while her knees dangled off the other. Legs bare despite the rain's chill, her feet kicked up and down displaying the toes painted in every color of the rainbow.
It was a new experience for him watching her Most Holy, the Divine squeal while painting twenty toes in all the options available to the two women. After weeks, chips of paint cracked off most of the nails from their travels, but she didn't mind. She said spotting the remaining colors brightened her up.
"I thought you were going to wake me from my nap," Cullen spoke while trying to comb his curls out of their wadded knot.
Lana slipped a finger in her book and turned in the chair to find him. A sweet smile twisted up her lips as well as his stomach. Maker, he'd do anything to see that smile every day for the rest of his life. "I couldn't. You were so exhausted when we arrived and...adorable when you sleep. There is warm tea if you'd like." She waved her hand towards a kettle resting on the end table beside her elbows.
Shaking his head, Cullen placed a hand against the metal anticipating what he'd find. "Cold," he chuckled.
"Oh dear, I forgot to return it after I..." she turned to her cup, nearly full, and probably just as cold.
Pulling up the kettle, Cullen placed it upon the hearth to warm up, "You have a terrible condition when it comes to tea."
"I know. I always think it'd be nice to sip some while reading, then I become engrossed and completely forget about it," she watched him prod at the logs not being consumed by the veilfire. Maybe he should try a real one. The blue light was useful, but true fire put out more heat. A soft sigh broke from her, and Cullen glanced over his shoulder to find her eyes, thick with hunger, traveling down his back.
"Hand me your cup as well?" he asked, breaking his spell over her. Reaching blindly behind her, she scooted the saucer and cup towards him then settled back into the chair.
"I'm afraid I'm bollocks at multi-tasking," Lana continued to list her faults, "unless it's on the battlefield."
Cullen smiled impishly, "Or in bed."
"That, uh," she tugged on the collar gaping around her neck, "I suppose there as well." Instead of her usual tunics or robes, she wore a wool sweater that could easily fit another one of her. The loose neck drooped down exposing her shoulder while the bottom hem reached past her upper thighs.
"Is that my sweater?" Cullen pouted, crossing his arms. "The one my sister knitted for me?" Which never fit because Mia seemed to be under the assumption he should be another fifty pounds heavier. Lana picked up the hem as if she'd never seen it before, exposing more of her tempting thigh. The cream color offset her skin so beautifully she looked both cozy as home and also ethereal beyond imagination.
"Perhaps," she said, laying the hem flat against her silky skin, "besides, I thought you were a true Ferelden man. They don't wear sweaters, they run out into the dead of winter bare chested with their fearsome mabari." Lana gestured at his fearsome mabari huffing in sleep on the rug beside the hearth. Even dogs grew weary during long trips.
"We Fereldens get cold," Cullen leaned down closer to her until those sweet eyes beamed into his, "it's why we have someone warm to share a bed with." His lips glanced across hers, intending only a soft kiss, but Lana lifted up her chin drawing him deeper into her web. Her fingers drifted down his shoulder and across the resting arms to squeeze his bicep.
"Mmm, I love when you sleep shirtless."
"Even if it leaves me cold and shivering in an empty bed?" he whispered to her ear.
"Perhaps I'd have stayed if you also slept pantsless," her fingers drew down his chest struggling to reach towards his stomach while her voice purred in anticipation.
Cullen laughed, "It'll never happen." After so many years fearing an invasion marching through his door at any moment, Cullen couldn't sleep without at least a pair of breeches on.
But Lana was not so easily persuaded, "Give me time, I've changed stubborner minds."
"That I would believe," he pressed his lips to her forehead and staggered back up to stand. His back screamed at him for even trying to stoop down to her for so long, but Cullen ignored it. A little pain was worth it to kiss her, to touch her, to skim his fingers across her warm skin and remind himself it was real. He gestured to her hands and asked, "Good book?"
"Ah," Lana flipped it around as if realizing it was yet in her clutches, "depends upon your definition of good." She displayed the cover All This Shit's Weird by Varric Tethras. Cullen tried to bite back a groan while Lana shrugged, "I thought I'd try and catch up on what I missed. Seems he had very definite thoughts on a certain Commander of the Inquisition."
"The dwarf was maddening in every sense of the word," Cullen grumbled. "How bad is it?"
"Oh, the prose is purpler than my pinkie toes, and he seems to employ punctuation like a hammer, but the plot trucks around without getting bogged down in..." Lana smiled at him, "You mean how do you come off? Quite well. Stern, appropriating, grumpy, a killjoy of all fun - dead on really." She chuckled at him and Cull
en couldn't maintain his growl. Hearing her laugh even at his expense lightened him beyond reason, he felt he could float through the air each time. "There was a section about you and your multitude of admirers at the Winter Palace Ball. He seemed to find that occurrence hilarious enough to include it three times."
Cullen ran his hands across the back of his neck, struggling to work out the kinks from a day sleeping on a foreign bed. What he needed was to sit for awhile, let his bunions rest before they renewed their trek east in a few days time. Smirking, he turned to Lana who was still flipping through the dwarf's book trying to find other passages to damn him. Her eyes lifted from the pages as he dropped down, placed one hand under her knees, another under her back, and scooped her into his arms.
"What are you doing?" she laughed, wiggling her feet in the air as he took all her body in his hands. Thank the Maker, she felt solid in his arms, no longer the paper thin muscles dangling off brittle bones from before. Time and more than a few hearty chantry dinners placed weight back upon her, weight he almost teared up in joy to hold onto again. She felt whole.
Twisting around while clinging to the woman he loved more than seemed possible, Cullen sat down in her chair. He released his hold on her legs, but kept the one around her back to hold her steady in his lap. Lana laughed a full one, her head dangling back off the chair's armrest. With his sweater smoothed out across her chest, Cullen spotted the dark hints of her nipples below the cream wool cupping against her temping breasts. He ran a hand up and down her legs, her calf muscles drawn out from where they'd faded away like knotted rope before. She was coming back to him.
"This is silly, you know. I'm over thirty, that's old maid territory. Spinsters don't sit in a gorgeous man's lap."
"Well, madam," Cullen helped her to curl up towards him so he could peck a kiss upon her lips, "you are the most beautiful matron I've ever had the pleasure to hold in my arms."
Her hand burrowed into the back of his shoulder as Lana rested her head against his chest. Through the sprouting of her returning hair, he felt the warmth of her cheek pressing against his own naked flesh. Maker, there weren't enough proper thank you's he could give to have Lana returned to him, to wrap his arms around this woman -- the only one to ever fill his heart -- and hold her tightly to his chest. She was his, he was hers, and it seemed almost impossible to imagine.
Those thick lashes fluttered against his skin. It felt as if she was painting his chest, the brush strokes erratic but lovely. Then her lips pressed against him, following the line of his pec as it dipped downward. Each hot breath after the kiss warmed him against the freezing rain sheeting across the windows. Gently, Cullen's hand massaged up and down her legs -- the same way he did when she first returned to him from the fade. Before, it was to bring blood back to her depleted and underused limbs, now it was to feel the pulse of her muscles as she curled her toes up. Lana was real, he reminded himself as he did every time he woke up and found her tiny body slumbering beside him.
His fingers slid higher up her thigh and he wondered aloud, "No breeches, but does the matron of the house dare to lounge around without any smalls on?" He skirted under the hem of the sweater, his fingertips skimming the top of her thigh and almost reaching above to test his theory for himself.
Lana sighed in pleasure, and she paused in her kisses to grin. "Wouldn't you like to find out?"
It was Cullen's turn to moan, anticipation stirring him even harder than having her in his lap did. Before he reached above her thighs, Lana locked both arms around his neck and pulled herself higher. Her nose bumped across his and he lost himself in her eyes, the golden ring around her pupils amplified in her mischief. She twirled a finger around his curly locks, trying to encourage them to curl more for her, then she dipped down. Lips parted for a scorching kiss, she danced her tongue deeper into his mouth, her flesh hungering for his. Cullen melted into her machinations, his exploring hand forgotten as he lifted it up to cup her cheek, pulling himself further into the kiss.
Lana broke away for a breath then pecked a few more kisses against his burning lips. "I love you," she whispered, leaning her head back to expose her neck. Cullen needed no more invitation to draw first his fingers, then his mouth down the side of her tiny neck. Soft, sweet kisses that'd leave no imprint pressed against her, trailing deeper towards her birthmark. Nearly sixteen years, and touching it, tasting her skin, running a finger across the drooping petals pushed every button inside of him. He wrapped his arms around the small of her back and leaned forward, trying to get a better taste - which caused Lana to giggle at his ferocity.
"I've missed you more than I can ever..." Tears stung her words, and Cullen's lust addled brain broke. He swept his fingers across her cheek, against the scar running down it, to mop up the fall of sorrow and regret.
"I know, because I've missed you just as much," he whispered.
"I wish I'd-"
"Lana," he placed his forehead against hers as his thumbs wiped away her fall of tears, "you're here now. That's all I need."
Light flashed from outside the windows, drawing both of them away. Cullen counted, waiting for the roll of thunder, but none came. Instead, the lodge's fixtures rattled in their hinges without a single sound booming across the rainy land. He turned a confused glance at Lana.
She smiled and waved her fingers, "Dampening spell. When you were sleeping, I didn't want the sound of the rain to wake you or worse so I, um... Is that all right?"
She did it because she was worried about him, because she wanted to protect him, hoped to help him, because she loved him. Cullen wrapped her tight against his chest, "It's sweet. Thank you."
"I love you."
"You already said that," he chuckled, trying to thread apart her short hair. Lana hated how it was growing in pieces from her self imposed cuts, so he'd often smooth down whatever errant section he found.
"I know, but...I want to make up for all the lost time."
"We do have a lot of it." He meant to play it off light, but the severity of the words struck them both. At the age of eighteen, he fell harder than he thought possible for that little mage - the one with the piles of curly hair and smart ideas. Twenty six and the one that slipped away returned to him, chose him, took him to her, only for both of them to give it up for duty. Then at thirty one, when the impossible happened, there she was again - needing him in a way he tried to understand. Now, by some will of the Maker, at thirty four he had her in his arms professing her love as easily as she'd ask for a cup of tea. It was like breathing to her, the way it had been for him for 16 years.
He moved to kiss her, when his wrist banged into the book in her fingers, "You're still holding that?"
She rotated it up to her face and smiled, "I intended to read it, until I was so handsomely interrupted."
"You know, I've never actually read it. How does the Hero of Ferelden come off in Master Tethras' mind?"
Lana smiled, "Shall I read you some?" Flipping open the book, pages riffled past until she landed on a certain passage. Coughing in her fist, Lana read, "'The Inquisitor stepped into the smuggler's cave expecting ambush, but he never could have prepared himself for the icy fists of winter.'"
"Icy fists of winter? I've never heard of a spell like that," Cullen interrupted.
"An author's liberties I suppose," Lana sighed. "'An ice spear flung off her palm, the blue crystal embedding a foot deep into the rock wall. As we blessed our asses that it didn't go through our skulls, the attacker stepped into the light. Eyes blazing like the frozen wastes of the Kokari wilds, with hair blacker than the deep roads, she raised her fists at us and shouted, "Who dares to disturb the Hero of Ferelden?'"
"I am assuming none of that happened."
"Varric does like to go on in a direction perpendicular to reality. Later he describes me as vengeance incarnate when I obliterated half of the grey warden army by myself. With...give me a moment. 'Fire trickling from her eyes, she drew forth from the places of mages and shattered lightning through the air.
The beak of a griffin statue collapsed from her attack, tumbling through the air to scissor a pride demon in half.'" Lana snorted, "I wish it were that easy."
"Didn't he know you before?" Cullen asked, dimly aware that the dwarf knew the pirate, who also knew the king - which sounded like a bad hand in Wicked Grace.
Lana shrugged, "I'm guessing the truth of a person is more of a guideline for him. But I can be a bit intimidating at times, I have to give him that."
Snuggling her tighter to his chest, Cullen ran a finger across the book's back cover. "You are intimidatingly sweet, bone achingly beautiful, torturously kind, and on occasion - affectionately terrifying." She laughed at his assessment as she pressed her lips against his chin. Struggling back a moan, Cullen asked, "How about we forget the book and head upstairs?"
With a flick of her wrist, Lana chucked it onto the rug almost startling Honor awake. Cullen wrapped her tight in his arms, rose to his feet, and carried her up the stairs while she kissed those tempting lips across his skin. Lost in her plying kisses, he ran shin first into the bed's baseboard. Pain burst up his leg, but Lana parted the veil and drew forth a numbing from the fade to wash it away as soon as it came. Bending over, Cullen placed her on the bed - her small form sinking deep into the folds of the furry duvet - and he gathered up her hands, kissing them both.
She raised an eyebrow at how he stopped her spell, but he whispered into her ear, "You might want to reserve your mana." Quivering from either his warm breath, or the promise, Lana's trembling hands rolled up his back. She dug her fingers in on the way up, pulling him down on top of her as she laid back - the two of them melding together on the rickety bed thick with trophies of someone else's life.
Cullen gently swooped his hand against her cheek, her skin entrancing him as his fingers trailed down across her neck to the birthmark. Lana's own exploring hands paused in their reach to try and sculpt his backside and she turned up at him, raising her chin to give him better access. But he didn't pause at those drooping petals of her birthmark, instead he drifted each step of his hand down under the sweater. Parting her lips, Lana's eyes slipped closed and her head lolled back, a moan rising through her chest as he cupped along the swell of her breast. Uncomfortableness rose up from his groin as he realized he'd trapped his rising erection tight against his pant leg. Watching her sigh in ecstasy as he teased her breast only exacerbated his hard rock and a tight place.
My Love Page 131
